Swing Away
by Garowyn
Summary: He longed to fly and leave everything behind, everything that pained him so much... The wind blew its own soft song of sadness, seemingly encouraging the young child to forget it all...


**A/N: Don't own Beyblade. The important information is at the end of the fic.**

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The sun was slowly setting down into the west, casting the last of its cheery light onto the city, preparing to leave until the morrow. People were settling down in their homes, getting ready to watch the evening news. The sounds of laughter could be heard within the neighborhood. Every child seemed to be with another, playing a game of tag or hide and seek. 

Every child it seemed, except for one.

A fiery-redhead named Brooklyn, with crystal blue eyes, sat on the last swing of a swing set in an empty playground. He allowed his feet to drag on the sand and pebbles, not caring if he scuffed up his shoes. His mother was always after him if he made the slightest mess. That was about the only thing she ever discussed with him anyway.

Frowning slightly, he kicked at the dirt and then pushed off again.

The rest of the swings were silent, empty. Empty…empty like the den in which he had always hoped that that would be the place that was never empty of his father. Alas, it was, since Brooklyn's father worked long hours almost everyday of the week.

Neither parent worried about their son. There didn't seem to be any reason for them to worry about him. They just always assumed he had friends and that he was fine, perfectly fine. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, they were mistaken.

Brooklyn lived life as a loner. Everyday he would get up in the morning, prepare his own breakfast of cereal and toast, shower, and get dressed for school. Everyday he would take the long way to school (he was always on time) and feed the birds in the park after school.

Birds. They were his favorite animals. Birds flew high above the earth, flapping their wings like no tomorrow, and were free as a, well, quite free as a bird can be. They were bound to nothing except for the seasons and to their young. They saw almost everything and were gentle, for the most part. All you had to do was show them the same gentleness and that was exactly what he did.

Brooklyn pushed off the ground with his feet and began to swing, back and forth, until he reached a height that he believed no one could ever reach. At least without giving into the temptation of jumping off to see who jumped the greatest distance. Brooklyn had never been able to play that game. He probably would have won anyway. Nobody liked to play with him because of that very reason. He always won.

It wasn't like he asked to win all the time. Brooklyn caught on very easily and instantly to any game or anything for that matter. Before long he would figure out the strategies to winning or to accumulate the most points or to obtain that piece of property. When someone plays a game, of any kind, they want to win…right?

Brooklyn liked winning. Who didn't? The satisfaction of having beaten your opponent is a feeling so easily turned to pride. Brooklyn tried to keep it from going to his head and had very successful attempts at doing so. The problem was, children tire of losing so quickly and would grow resentful to the winner. They lack the consideration and maturity to refrain themselves from delivering accusations, like assuming he had cheated somehow.

This made Brooklyn sad. He had no friends. He had tried once to let the other child win but after waiting a long time for his rival to recognize a way to beat him, he decided to give in and end the game quickly, hoping to play another. This earned him a glare and a mean comment. No longer did they believe they had to try harder. To them, Brooklyn was unbeatable (or sneaky) and thus it became boring to even make an effort to play a simple board game with him.

The redhead sighed and kept pumping his legs whenever he felt himself slow down. The more he concentrated on swinging, the lesser the chance he would look to the side and see the swings silent, empty.

Often he wondered if there was something wrong with him. Maybe the children avoided him because he wasn't considered normal, aside from his winning streak. Did he have a big nose? Crooked teeth? Did he have weird hair? Was he too tall?

His parents had replied, "You're our perfect little boy!"

If he was so perfect, why didn't he have any friends? Maybe this assumed perfection was the problem.

Brooklyn continued to swing back and forth, trying to ignore a familiar lump in his throat. He blinked away the unwanted tears in his crystal blue eyes.

He reached that same great height, feeling free as a bird. He longed to jump off without fear of gravity taking its toll. He longed to leap into the air and take flight, flying as high as the birds without a care in the world. They would be his friends. All the animals could be his friends.

He longed to fly and leave everything behind, everything that pained him so much.

_Why don't you?_

"I can't," the boy answered absentmindedly. The disembodied voice sounded just like him so it did not seem so strange to him; he was not aware that he was unconsciously having a conversation with himself. Brooklyn was a strange boy indeed.

_Why not? Surely you don't want to stay here and deal with being alone, do you?_

Brooklyn shook his head. "No," he replied in a quiet voice.

_Forget those children. You're too good for them. You cannot be beaten._

Although this…darker part of him had an exact duplicate of his voice, it spoke as if it were wise, as if it could be persuasive, if needed.

"I can't?" Brooklyn looked toward the darkening sky, seeing a single star, the first star of the night.

_See that star? _

"Yes," Brooklyn whispered, not taking his eyes off of it.

_Swing higher. Concentrate on it. _

Brooklyn pumped his legs harder and faster, fascinated by that one star.

_Jump!_

Brooklyn jumped.

The boy found himself high above the earth, still gazing at that one star. He was getting closer.

Suddenly aware that he was not swinging back down like he was supposed to, Brooklyn gasped and glanced about the sky wildly. He was really…flying! He was just like the birds, flying free and far.

Brooklyn came to an abrupt stop and felt the oncoming vertigo. "Where am I?" he asked, slight panic in his voice.

_You are the controller of this place. This is your world. It can be anything you want it to be. _

"Really?" The sky turned to orange and a large forest shimmered into view beneath him.

He liked the forest. They were home to the baby birds in their nests.

_Yes. Together, we will soar to new heights and new places! You are invincible; you are capable of a great power._

"Who are you?"

_I am you._

"Me?"

_Yes…close your eyes._

The redhead did as he was told.

_Open your eyes now._

Brooklyn opened his crystal blue eyes and saw that he was slowing down, still on the swing. "What happened?" he asked, wondering if he had really flown to the sky.

_You can go to this world whenever you are sad. The animals will play with you._

"Really?" came the excited reply. "The birds too?"

_Yes…you are free as a bird, free to do whatever you want…_

Brooklyn was special, unique, a genius, and capable of creating his own world. He would make it real.

_You don't need those children._

He didn't need any friends.

_You cannot be beaten._

That's why he always won, right?

_Swing away, Brooklyn. Swing away._

Brooklyn pushed off from the ground, happy that he didn't have to feel so alone anymore. He had his own friends, the animals, and they would never leave him.

The swings beside him remained silent, empty.

A bird landed on top of the swing set and chirped once, twice, as if it were singing a song to him and to him only.

His crystal blue eyes lit up and he smiled.

The wind blew its own soft song of sadness, seemingly encouraging the young child to forget it all, to leave it behind, and swing away.

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**This is my own little interpretation of Brooklyn's childhood, family and personality. I saw a short scene in the last episode of G-Revolutions and it looked like he had a dark side of him, struggling to have control while the light side was trying to regain control. **

**Also inspired by a Rurouni Kenshin MIDI file, Light Shaded Dream. It sounded so sad…it helped me write the rest of this. **

**Thank you to Caorann fridh Bronach for beta reading. **


End file.
